Rebuilding
by SinfullySilent
Summary: The dead have been eradicated, the survivors have begun to rebuild. America is healing. But why doesn't everyone feel safe? Everything is supposed to be fine, and yet paranoia remains. [Bethyl] [AU after 4th season] [More to story, just read first chapter!] :}
1. A Whole New World

The world as we know it is different. Of course, it has been different for years now. Thankfully it took a better turn eventually. I walk along the rocks near my apartment. I live in the SF building (Single Female). It's how they label us now. Since the government finally got everything under control and came out of hiding, after they decontaminated what was left of civilization, they immediately set up housing. The human race was lacking. Most buildings had been infested and therefore destroyed during the decontamination. Businesses and homes crumbled to the ground as the government grabbed up whoever was still surviving. As things progressed a little more in the next year, apartments were built and separated into 'camps' as to label the people who lived there. The government of New America had to separate us as easily as possible. Those who were married or together or who had children were sent into the LT building (Living Together), and then there was SF and SM buildings. Last but not least was E building, strictly for the elderly. Duties were passed out according to age, sex, and whether you were with or without children. As a twenty one year old with no spouse or kids, I was delegated to washing clothes and cooking for the buildings who all eat at the same time.

I'm on my way to the river where we wash the clothes. Not everything is completely fixed yet. The government is still working on restoring power and running water and all that. My hair is pulled tightly to the top of my head and I'm clean, which is different than before. My top is a sunny yellow and my pants are a sparkling white. I smell like lavender soap and fruit. I just finished chopping the berries we picked and threw them in some oatmeal for breakfast. We eat oatmeal a lot, but I can't complain. I was used to eating out of cans.

"Brittany! Could you wash this for me?" Lou calls to me from my usual spot, he has been waiting for a while by the looks of the sweat on his brow.

"Of course, just put it in my pile." I tell him sincerely as he drops a handful of clothes into my bin. I wash the Single Men's clothes.

I take out the clothing scraper (as I like to call it) and sit on a tree stump next to Patty and Holly, twin sisters about my age. They are washers too, but they do daycare at night instead of cooking like me.

"Lots of laundry today." Holly mentions as she brushes her wet hand against her fire engine red hairline.

"Yeah." I agree as I start in on my pile. In all reality, it's pretty easy for me. I've been working in a group like this for a year now after being on my own in the woods trying to survive.

"I hear we're getting new members today." Patty strikes up conversation, but I just nod and murmur when she needs me to instead of talking myself. I'm not one for gossip, not after all I've seen.

"That's probably why there're so many clothes. New members means more resources." Holly says as she tries hard to scrub out stains on some kid's underpants. It's the worst part of the job, dealing with underwear.

"I hope we don't end up going into draught." Patty complains. Her words are wrong but I know how she feels, she doesn't want more people to mean we lose food again. It happened a few months ago and it was hard on all of us.

Georgia being so close to D.C. was lucky, we were one of the first places rehabilitated after they fixed their coast and Florida- so we were told. But we don't know what is happening with the West at all, if they're better or worse than us. We all assume that New America includes them, but who really knows.

I shake my head and work on getting a grass stain out of what I assume is a contractor's shirt. The men have rebuilding duty. Thanks to the fact that most, if not all, of the dead have been eradicated.

"Have you been matched yet?" Patty asks me as she borrows my soap. She always runs out quickly, she isn't great as saving up what she can of our resources.

"No." I shrug but I know it's coming.

Our leaders, President Halfax and his second in command, Kimble have put in place a new 'mating' system, so to speak. If women and men don't pair up naturally by twenty, they will be matched up as best as the government can and are expected to have two children with their new mate.

I resent the system in some ways because I know it will be my turn soon, but in others I don't mind. The world needs to be repopulated and this is life now, I'd rather contribute than have things go back to the way they used to be.

"I hope it'll be soon for me, personally." Patty continues. "It just takes the pressure off. Plus, if I get pregnant I can stop working until the baby's two, and even then I'll only have one job."

"I so agree." Holly adds with a whimsical smile.

Part of me wants to agree, but a smaller part likes the work, likes to feel needed. I don't want to just be some boob for a baby to suck on, as harsh as that sounds… I guess I just hate that gender roles have come out in the harsh new reality that is our lives.

After I finish my washing for the day I move to the communal kitchen and eatery. It's a large wooden building that is nearly empty inside, aside from picnic-like benches and the back room that houses the kitchen. It's got a big fire pit and wood-burning stove. It's got tables to cut up the meat and veggies and whatever else we need to do. I like the cutting the best, it reminds me of when I was stronger. I've grown weaker since the camps have been set up and regulated, I've grown complacent. My arms have thinned out and my thighs have gained weight, not muscle weight either. I throw a bunch of carrots into a large Dutch oven followed by potatoes and chunks of chicken. I cover it with water and spices and put the lid on, letting it boil for a couple hours so it'll turn into stew.

The camp has two meals a day and children are brought a snack at lunchtime. The meals are always hearty and filling, I think we're all on the same mind frame of anything could happen anytime. I don't think that will ever leave us. But with practice and regulation our children's children will never know that feeling. That's what the president tells us at least. I choose to believe him because if I didn't, I probably wouldn't have much hope to hold onto.

Kimberly, a thin, middle-aged woman with short brown hair stands next to me, pouring water into cups to hand to the men who are constructing more buildings. She is probably my best friend here, she doesn't talk much either. The words we speak are never wasted. She has a ten year old daughter who goes to school when she works and then helps us in the kitchen when she gets home.

"New members." Kimberly reminds me softly as she takes a drink for herself and hands me one. I gulp it down greedily, terrified that it could be the last bit of fresh water my mouth will taste. Survival mode just won't leave me.

"I heard. I put extra meat and veggies in for tonight. Don't want anyone to be hungry." I say easily. "Have you heard any word on…you know?"

Kimberly shakes her head and frowns. I know she's concerned. Rumors are that single people with children will be matched again until they meet the two-child requirement. Kimberly's husband died a while back I think, she doesn't really talk about it, and she's scared to have to replace him. She's forty though, and I'm not sure they will force her to be matched.

"I'll pray for you." I say it automatically, the words fall from my lips of their own accord. I'm not religious anymore, I don't think I am anyway. I think I lost my faith the first time I had to slaughter the dead on my own.

"Thanks Brittany." She pats my shoulder twice and smiles.

I nod and move to the cupboards where we store the utensils and dishes. I need to set up the benches for mealtime. I grab spoons, forks, knives, and bowls. It takes me a good two hours of busy work to get them all set out in proper order. I like busy work, it keeps my mind off the old days. At the end of setting the tables I have two forks, knives, and spoons left over. For reasons I don't understand I take a knife and secretly put it in my back pocket. Just in case.

Bells ring out through camp and I brace myself for an attack that won't come. I hate loud noises. The men come in first, followed by their children who sit next to them. Women come in next and complete the room. All the puzzles fit. Except there are thirty empty seats in the back that I've set for the newcomers. I swallow nervously as I grab the stew pot and dish it out into everyone's bowls. I give men and children two slices of bread while the women get one. The kids who don't want the extra slice hand it to the women. The bread is getting stale, I can feel the outside hardening unpleasantly, and I realize that tomorrow I'll have to bake more.

Bruce, the man in charge of the other men, appointed by the president himself, comes up to me. He's handsome in a pretty way. He's thin and clean shaven with short blonde hair. His muscles have weakened as well, but he's still attractive for his mid-thirties.

"Brit, we've got the newbies coming round the back. Some of them are pretty messed up, found 'em in the woods and hiding out in cars and shit." He rubs his hair nervously. "Just put the food out, I don't want you to mess with 'em right now."

I laugh inwardly, I could handle some crazed men. I've handled worse. "Fine." I agree though, knowing that arguing won't get me anywhere.

I ladle equal helpings into the bowls that are out and put three pieces of bread near the bowls. The bread is going stale and they will be hungrier if they are just getting in, I tell myself. We are told not to overuse the food, but I feel it is alright. I remember how hungry I had been when the president's men wrangled us up to begin the camps. I had eaten my two slices of bread and the entire bowl of canned soup I was given, and I was still hungry. Kimberly usually snuck me her daughter's other slice of bread until I was better.

I take my place at the singles table, avoiding conversation with the men and women. I pass kind smiles to Holly, Patty, and Kimberly from afar. I do the same for some of my other friends, though I use the term loosely. But I don't strike up conversation. I don't have much to say.

Dinner is done soon as I wolf down the chicken stew and pick up bowls for the dishwashers. That's not my duty, it's allocated to children. My eyes wander towards the back where I can see both men and women tear into their meals like savages. A few sit still, letting the food remain untouched and I can't fathom why. There are no children in this group.

I drop the dishes into a bucket noisily and flinch at the sharp sound. Kimberly's daughter, Josie, is standing with her friends from school Sara and Lila. They're on dishes duty tonight and are eager to do so. I shake my head at their naiveté, kids excited to do chores. I try to think back to my childhood but I can't. I grimace and move on.

Without thinking I walk to the back door, letting it swing open under my strong push and dash through it before I'm hit by its return. I hear the group's utensils clang onto their bowls as they look up in surprise at my presence. I bite my lip nervously. I had done so out of habit, I didn't mean to bother them. I offer sorry glances in their directions but I feel humanity has slipped so far they don't realize what I mean.

"Sorry." I manage out loud, not afraid of this new group like the rest of my companions. "I didn't mean to startle anyone."

A head whips up in the back and locks eyes on me. I can feel the heat from his stare but I don't know what it means. He looks surprised, his blue eyes are wide. His shaggy auburn hair sticks to his face with sweat and his biceps are pronounced in his sleeveless shirt. He looks menacing and for a moment I am scared, until I remember I am safe. He doesn't move for a moment and neither do I. The tension is broken when he finally speaks, his voice as gruff as I imagined. He says only one word and it is a mix of shock, awe, confusion, and a little bit of anger.

"Beth?"


	2. Caught Off Guard

He stands quickly, harshly, tipping over his untouched bowl of stew. I can see the meat and juices go everywhere, soaking the table and people near him, but he doesn't seem fazed. He strides towards me quickly and I back away slowly. It's been awhile since I've been scared or taken off guard, but this man has done just that.

In two seconds he is near me and in the next second I'm shoved with my back against the wall. The man isn't abusive, I realize. No, he's stroking my hair and checking my arms. His gaze pierces me again as his eyes find mine. I know I look startled, like a deer in headlights, but he doesn't stop.

"Beth, you're alive." He says again but I have no reply. He backs up one step and shakes his head. "What happened to you?"

Now I have to speak. "I'm sorry, my name's Brittany. You must have me confused for someone else…"

He looks angry, or maybe frightened. I can't tell, his emotions aren't written plainly on his face. "I ain't stupid. I know it's you." The whisper is harsh as I am pressed against the wall again, this time in an aggravated manner.

"I'm so-sorry." I stutter as I reach into my back pocket, ready to whip out the butter knife I grabbed earlier. I'm more than ready to drive it into his neck if I have to. But I don't. Bruce comes up to us in a fast march, on his face is pure hatred. He grabs the man by his shoulder and throws him off me, or tries to. The man is stronger and resists, but does back up.

"Is there a problem?" Bruce asks in a stern voice, making it plain he is fine with kicking out the newcomer.

"No. He's just mistaken." I say quickly. It comes out weak and I hate that. It sounds like I'm scared of the man instead of trying to help him. I don't want him thrown out and sent back into the woods, or worse, taken to a prison.

"I ain't mistaken." He spits the last word out and I flinch. It's been awhile since I've seen such pent up hostility.

"You need to go back to your seat if you want to stay here." Bruce commands like the leader he is, I can see his brown eyes trace my face, looking for signs that I'm not okay.

"I don't wanna stay here. Y'all took me!" The man is starting to make a scene, attracting the newcomers' attention. I place a hand on his arm slowly, and I remind myself it's just like dealing with a frightened dog. I tell myself that but I'm not sure if I believe it…

"It's safe here. You don't want to be alone." I speak slowly and quietly, reassuring him with my eyes.

"I'd listen to Brittany if I were you." Bruce adds.

"Fine." The man snaps away from us and heads back to the table. I keep my eyes on him, refusing to be taken aback anymore. The way he walks is predatory still but it's also got a dash of vulnerability. I wonder who Beth is and what she did to him.

* * *

The walk back to housing is boring. It's dark out and the stars and moon are out. The lake near the SF apartment is twinkling as the stars reflect on the water like small diamonds. And it's all so boring to me. A year ago when I was on my own, I found a shelter near the woods, an old shed of sorts. In it was an a man and woman holding hands, lying next to each other, dead. For some reason I couldn't stop staring at the rotting corpses thinking that it was true beauty, that the love they had for each other defied even the end of the world. That's what beauty means to me.

I kick a stick that's in my path and watch as it rolls a few paces before stopping. I want to pick it up, carve it into a weapon, but I don't. I have to get out of my own mind, I have to remind myself that it is safe now. I shake my head at myself and hum under my breath. I can't sing for crap but I still like to. The sound comforts me.

There's an oak tree near the apartment that sits next to the lake. It's my thinking spot, people rarely use it as we have an indoors now and don't need to camp outside, but tonight it's taken up. As I come closer I can see the outline of a bulky male, the man who assaulted me in the eatery. I stop walking and take a step back when a twig snaps under my feet. The man's head shoots up and I pray he can't see me. I bolt for the apartment door before he can confront me and take the stairs up to my apartment two by two. Once inside I feel better. There's my cot in the corner and a couch in the middle. There's a small desk that can be used as a table in the corner by the door. All in all my apartment can't be more than five hundred square feet, but I don't need it to be bigger. I don't have a family and I'm out all day doing my duties. I lie on my cot and take a calming breath. I don't get to undress before I fall asleep, the dark claiming me quickly. I sleep easy enough, it's the nightmares that are the problem. For the first night in a while I don't have any.

* * *

I wake in a daze. I realize it's because I feel so refreshed, so at ease. I don't know whether this is good or bad. I slide my pale feet across the top of the cot and let them drop the floor. After a quick stretch and a change of shirts I'm out the door. I've overslept, I know it because the sun is pounding down. I run to my spot at the kitchen to get breakfast ready but Kimberly is there cleaning. She looks up, a sweet smile on her face.

"Morning sleepy head." She says as she wipes down a counter. I can see juice stains it, probably from fresh fruit.

"I'm so sorry I'm late." I begin, I want to say more but she cuts me off.

"Everyone needs a break every once in a while." She rinses off her rag in a bucket of water and then comes around to the front where I stand. "I saved some fruit salad for you, but we're out of porridge."

"Out of porridge?" I exclaim, surprised. Usually we run out of fruit first.

"With all the new people…I didn't think to make more."

I study Kimberly and realize the smile plastered on her face is a façade. I can see the pain behind her eyes.

"What's wrong?" I ask her.

"They've matched me."

A gasp escapes my lips. I never thought this day would come. Kimberly looks somberly out the back door where a hint of light suggests that the sun is out and the day is in full force.

"With who?"

"I don't know yet…I was told it'd be soon, to be ready. But they won't say who." She drops to her elbows on the table in front of her and covers her eyes. I give her back an awkward hug, offering what support I can. She is devastated, her shoulders quake up and down and her hand grabs my upper-arm in thanks.

"Does Josie know?" I finally break apart from her as her cries dissipate.

"I told her last night." She laughs once. "The girl's excited. Says she can't wait for me to be in love."

I smile just a tiny bit, at least Josie will keep her happy. "I'm sorry. I know you don't want to…Have you tried talking to Bruce?"

She shakes her head no and sniffles. "No, I don't want to be a burden. They can't start making exceptions."

I nod in agreement because thinking of the group as a whole, we can't. When we start giving leeway, the more chaotic it will be here. If we want this new civilization to work we have to stick to rules. I give her a small kiss on her cheek and she looks shocked.

"I'm here for you." I say before leaving the kitchen. I have to get back to my chores.

My washing pile is empty and I see Holly on my stump talking to Patty. They're in the middle of a serious conversation, both brushing their red hair away from their face as the breeze picks up.

"—few handsome ones. I just don't want to be last."

"Yeah, I don't want to wait longer. My ovaries will dry up."

They laugh but stop when they see me.

"Brittany! We heard you got in a huge fight yesterday with some new convict!" Holly gushes. She's so excited I think she might piss herself.

"Negative." I shrug and sit at Holly's seat. She has the Elderly's bucket today. I frown, I hate washing their clothes. It as close to smelling death as possible now.

"What if you get matched with him?" Patty presses as she rinses a shirt and rings it dry.

"He's older. It won't happen."

They frown at my unwillingness to talk about the subject. Truthfully, the man has been so far from my memory, I haven't thought about him once. And I want it to stay that way. Odds are I won't see him again until dinner, and even then, I won't ever have to interact with him.

"Where's Reese and Abe's clothes?" I ask as I notice my bucket is low on suspenders and overalls, the old couple's clothing of choice.

"They didn't turn it in." Holly states coldly. They will be mad at me for a while, until I give them a juicy piece of gossip. I'm happy about this, the less I have to talk to them the better. The companionship is nice, having a warm body close to me, but the last thing I want to do is talk about unimportant things and false rumors.

"I'll go check." I sigh, annoyed. I have to go to the E apartment which means there's a good chance I'll run into the man from last night. If the men are working in town that is.

I walk fast, taking long strides with my shorter legs. I busy myself with my blonde hair, pulling it into a bun and then taking it out and putting it in a pony-tail. Just like I thought, a group of men and newbies surround the hub of our makeshift town, a big home-like building that houses the officials and a doctor's office. I can see the men restoring a smashed window in the E apartment on the ground floor as the newbies check in at the office. Bruce and Gwen (the female's boss) will have questions for them to answer to make sure they're harmless. I look at the ground as I walk, I don't want to attract attention.

Reese and Abe's apartment is on the third floor of a five story building. It's all the way in the back next to Ella Ann's. Ella Ann is the town grump and I've always felt for the old couple who were fun and whimsical for having to live by her. I knock twice on their door before letting myself in. There was a chance they'd be socializing outside or still sleeping in their bedroom and all I had to do was grab their full laundry basket. I can spot it on the outside of their bedroom and I go to grab it.

I bend down to grab the basket and when I look up I get a face full of the dead. Reese and Abe look the same, sort of, if you can ignore their white, emotionless eyes and graying bodies. They make low groans until they smell me and then they start snapping. I've been caught off-guard. It's finally happened. I haven't seen the undead for a year and here they are. I stumble back and kick the bucket in front of their path. Reese trips but Abe stays upright and is so close to me I can feel his super-hot breath on my face. I can't turn to run, they'd grab me by my hair or arm or leg and then I'd be gone. I need a weapon. I look around me but I'm met with an relatively empty hallway, aside from the dead in front of me. I want to run away or curl up into a ball and weep, but I won't. I feel a bulge against my butt and whip out my butter knife from the night before, thanking whoever was out there that I didn't change my pants. And then I hope it'll do. I swing my leg under Abe and trip him. Reese is behind him, gaining ground. I need to act quickly. I bring the knife down into Abe's skull and the animalistic noises he's making stop. Reese, however, is still going. The lifeless creature who has taken over her body becomes confused by the body blocking her previously clear path and she shuffles forward but remains in the same place. I yank the knife out of Abe's head and jump to my feet, letting out a cry as I jam the weapon into Reese's skull. I hear the crunch and see her body sink to the floor as well, I follow. I lay down in the mess for a moment, away from the bodies, as exhaustion fills me. Nothing prepares you for an attack. I'm breathing heavy and closing my eyes when the door is kicked open.

I don't open my eyes over the commotion, I know it's the men who were outside.

"Is she okay?" A weak-sounding voice asks and I finally open my eyes.

Two tinier men stand near the entry-way next to Bruce and the man from last night. The man and Bruce look relieved, if not confused. But they can join the club.

"They weren't bit." I say out loud, not even caring that I had subconsciously realized this.

"They must've died in their sleep." Bruce holds out a hand for me but I ignore it, getting up by myself.

"You alright?" The man from last night asks me. He doesn't seem worried though, if anything he is more stoic than he was before. He still hasn't showered, his skin covered in several layers of filth, and he's just as sweaty as before too.

"Fine." I turn to Bruce. "Are we getting the antidote soon?"

"They're just perfecting it right now. We should have it shortly." Bruce looks at the bodies, his face cold and drained of color. He seems like he doesn't know what to do so I take charge, letting myself speak up for the first time ever.

"Take these bodies out back and burn them. I'll take the bedspread, wash everything. We need to try and keep it quiet or people will become worried."

The tiny men nod and begin to grab hold of the bodies, dragging them behind them.

"We'll need to hire a guard for the E building until we get an antidote. We can't have this happening and getting out of hand." I tell Bruce who coughs and stands up straight again, back in his own body finally.

"Right. Good. You heard her boys."

Bruce walks out after the men with the bodies. I take the time to right myself and wipe my hands on my jeans, a little blood splatter has stained my shirt but it's nothing to worry about. I've had worse.

"You handled that well." The man speaks up and I head to the bedroom to rip the sheets from their cot. I throw them in the laundry bucket that was overturned during the attack. He stands in the same spot, watching me work.

"I've had practice."

"Where were you before this?" He asks and it feels so personal I don't want to respond. But I can feel him becoming more violent the longer I don't answer.

"I was on my own for about a year."

"Before that?" He demands.

"None of your business." I look at him coldly and leave the apartment. "How'd you all get here so quickly anyway?"

"We were outside when we heard ya scream. Bruce charged up the stairs like a madman." He walks with a strut behind me, as if he's ready for anything to happen.

"Thanks."

"He your boyfriend or somethin'?" The question makes me laugh out loud.

"No. Definitely not. I'm more of a loner." _Until they match me_, I think but don't say.

"Same."

I push out of the building with a thud and he trails behind me, finally walking beside me as we make our way back to the office area. I want to register the attack with Gwen.

"You gonna tell me your name?" I speak as we come to the entrance of the big white house. There's an American flag outside to symbolize coming back together, but other than that, the yard is plain. I don't know why I ask him, I guess I want to know who's bugging me.

"Daryl." He tells me and then picks up pace, going inside the office before I can.

I watch his defined back muscles as he strides, watch the way his head tilts to the ground before looking back up, as if he isn't sure of his place. It's all so familiar, and yet not. I groan in frustration as I change routes, heading straight for the lake to wash clothes as my duty describes.

The dead are supposed to stay dead now, I'm supposed to have a sense of security. I have to admit I am afraid. I was afraid when Reese and Abe attacked me, I was afraid for Kimberly when she told me of her situation. As much as I like to put off strong, independent vibes, I know what I am. Broken. Weak.

By the time the clothes are done, the sheets washed free of their putrid smell, I'm lost in my thoughts. The sun has lowered on the horizon and Holly and Patty are long gone. I know Bruce will talk to Gwen who won't hold it against me if I don't show up for dinner duty. But I won't be able to miss my appointment tonight. I have a scheduled doctor's appointment to get to. Where I have to discuss my memory loss and trauma. _Hooray._


	3. Chapter 3

"How've you been feeling lately?" Doctor Beatrice Evangeline sits on a worn recliner while I sit on the couch across from her. The furniture in the room smells musty, smells like before.

"The same, I guess." I shrug as Dr. B writes in her yellow legal pad. We were lucky to stumble across a psychiatrist, especially with all the brain problems I've been having.

"No new flashes?" She asks referring to the bursts of memory I'll sometimes get.

"None." I shake my head.

"Is there anything you want to address?"

I ponder this for a moment, staring at the owl clock that doesn't move behind Dr. B's head. There are five clocks around the office and all remain un-ticking.

"There's this guy, Daryl, he's new here." I explain as Dr. B nods her head encouragingly, "Well, he called me Beth the other day. I mean, he really believes I'm someone named Beth."

"Mhm. What do you think?"

"I don't even know anyone named Beth." I sigh in frustration at the headache I get from thinking too hard. I try to focus in on the name but there is only blackness, an emptiness of information.

"He might just have you confused."

"Yeah."

"I heard you had to deal with Reese and Abraham today." Dr. B doesn't look up from her pad but I can hear how interested she is.

"They must've died in their sleep, at least one of 'em did. I didn't see any bite marks, but they turned. I had to kill them." I state it so bluntly that even I'm shocked. Like I'm reading a grocery list instead of talking about killing two of our people. Not that they were people anymore.

"That had to be hard on you…" She leads. I don't take the bait.

"I had to do what was right."

"Huh." More scribbling. Finally, she looks up at me. "Do you want to talk about what happened _before_?"

I know what she's getting at, and I should. I've been holding off on talking about it for six months, since I started seeing Beatrice. I try a little.

"It comes in splotches when I sleep mostly. But I remember being…cuffed to a wall next to someone, but I don't remember who. I think the worst part is, when I have the dreams they feel so real it's like it's happening all over again. And I can't wake up to stop it."

"What else is in the dreams? Maybe if you faced it now it wouldn't have so much control over you."

My mouth opens to tell the doctor about my nightmares, about my old reality, but no sound comes out. I can't admit all I've seen, felt, and heard. To do so would only make me more broken. A tear slips down my cheek as I suppress the harsh memories and I shake my head no. The doctor says something but I can't hear her anymore. I've been transported back into one of my harsh memories.

_"__You got somethin' to say bitch?" A rough hand slaps my cheek, not once but twice. An angry, scowling man looks down at me. _

_ "__What's your name bitch?" His partner demands the answer, he's even bigger than the man who slapped me. I call them Tweedledee and Tweedledum, but they don't know that. _

_Tweedledee grabs me by my ponytail and yanks hard. I let out a scream. It's my third night in the place, and I refuse to speak a word. _

_The door opens behind the men and in comes the head boss, he's older and scruffy has a giant scar down his right arm that says he gets in a lot of fights. _

_ "__She talking yet?" He wants to know. _

_Tweedledee looks ashamed. "Nah, she ain't sayin' a word."_

_ "__Where'd ya find the bitch anyway?" Tweedledum inquires as I fight my cuffs. I've tried slipping my hands through but they're too tight. I've got chains on my ankles as well, attaching me to the wall and floor._

_ "__Some funeral house. She was screamin' up a storm, waiting for somebody. Thought she'd be pretty for our collection." _

_Tweedledee and Tweedledum snicker and I let out a small whimper. I don't know why I've been taken, I only know I won't talk. I can't. _

_ "__I think she's part of a big group by the way she was shouting for someone. She ain't been alone, I can see it. And I need to know where to find them." Head Boss raises his voice and hits the wall with his hand, I jump. _

_ "__But why? Can't we just take her…"_

_ "__They might have more. She's too skinny to use anyway." Head Boss interrupts one of the men with a fierce look. _

_I don't know why they want me, what I'm to be used for. _

_ "__Leave us." Head Boss commands and his followers do just that._

_Now I'm alone with the real evil one and right now, I'd rather be alone with a dozen walkers. He's looking at me like he wants to eat me. I shake uncontrollably as he stalks towards me. _

_ "__Now sweetie, this don't have to be hard. Tell me where I can find others like you."_

_Like me? I think, but the words don't come out of my mouth. _

_ "__You're pretty, I could use you. You don't have to be kept prisoner. Just tell me what I want to know."_

_ "__I'm n-n-not a part of a g-g-group." I speak in a soft scared voice, like that of a frightened mouse._

_ "__We both know that ain't true. You're skinny but you've been well fed, you're healthy, and you were with somebody. This doesn't have to be hard on ya."_

_I shake my head no because talking is too frightening. Head Boss's face changes from faux-friendliness to hatred in an instant and his foot connects with my ribs. I howl in pain. _

_ "__You can be louder if you need to. See, ain't nobody gonna hear you. Ain't nobody gonna find you. So I suggest you tell me what I need to know." _

_ "__W-why?" I groan._

_ "__It's our duty to repopulate. To do so I need women, healthy women. Not like the sick ones we've picked up, they just die." _

_I twitch under his semi-cheerful gaze, he's happy. He's talking about rape and murder and he looks happy. I let out a sob and close my eyes. I wish for death. _

_The door bangs open and in comes Tweedledum carrying a body. It's another woman, a little older than me. She's got a bloodied nose and dirtied clothes, but other than that she looks healthy. Shit, I think. The woman has big eyes, round with fear. The boss gives me one last glance before twirling his finger at the man. _

_ "__Chain her up and we'll talk." He leaves. _

_Tweedledum chains up the new prisoner a few feet from me and follows his boss. I don't know what they'll talk about but it could give me enough time to escape. I pull at my chains but they don't budge. Tears roll down my face. _

_ "__Where am I?" The woman asks in a daze. I feel for her. _

_ "__I don't know, but these men, they're bad people. We have to get out somehow." I whisper. She starts crying and the noise is loud enough to attract unwanted attention. I need to quiet her. Calm her. _

_I study her for a moment, her brown hair swept up in a high bun, her pronounced curves and painted nails. She was taken from a group, but she had to be away from the group. I take a breath, a long one, to steady my nerves._

_ "__It's fine, we'll get out." I say and she looks at me, silent. "We just have to work together."_

_She nods slowly and lets out another cry as she yanks on her hands. _

_ "__What's your name?" I ask to distract her._

_ "__B-Brittany." She tells me. "What's yours?"_

_ "__Beth." _

* * *

"Brittany? Brittany!" I'm being shaken by Dr. B. I sit up slowly, the room spinning as I do so.

"What happened?" I put one hand on my head to fight off the dizziness and one on my stomach to fight the nausea.

"You blacked out again." She hands me a wet cloth and I press it to my forehead, leaning back on the couch. "What were you thinking of? Maybe you have a trigger."

I think back to her question, the last thing I can recall. But I can't remember what I was thinking. All that's in my mind is darkness. Goose bumps raise on my arms but I don't know why.

"How long was I out?"

"Five minutes."

I sigh and cringe. I have a migraine. Beatrice seems to understand immediately and hands me some aspirin. I swallow without water and stand, steadying myself on a grandfather clock next to the couch.

"Next week, same time." She says with a nod and gives me a small hug. I shrink back from the personal touch slightly and she frowns. I don't want to be analyzed anymore though, so I leave.

I walk out of Beatrice's office and into the main lobby where Gwen and Bruce sit and reconvene about the day we've had. Gwen and Bruce are an odd couple, not that they're an actual couple. Just that for a boss Bruce is much more easily disturbed and rattled. Gwen is the opposite, tough until the end. I once saw her slice her hand on a piece of wood and not even flinch, she finished the job (that she was doing because a man took off work and they needed an extra person) and then helped me in the kitchen after. Then, when the day was over, she finally got it looked at and stitched up.

Bruce would've probably thrown up at the sight of the blood and then would have to have anesthesia to get stiches. Not that there's anything wrong with that. They're just two different kinds of leaders.

Gwen looks up and sees me, waves hello before returning to what she was doing. Bruce spots me too and instead of doing like Gwen he gets up and comes to me.

"How was your appointment?" He speaks quietly, not many know that I have to see a doctor.

"Fine."

"Any better?"

Bruce knows more than he lets on, I can tell. He was probably informed of my blackout the second it happened. He takes a special interest in my case as he is the one that found me in the wilderness. I was alone, covered in blood and dirt. The blood wasn't mine but it didn't make him any less worried. He's been a protector of sorts since then. Not that I need him to be.

"It's fine." I repeat and walk past him. He looks hurt but I don't care enough to stop and go back to him. I don't like being looked at with pity, don't like knowing someone else knows more about me than I might. That's how Bruce acts, like he knows everything I don't.

It's getting cold out, must be about fall now. The summer was awful, the hot sun beating down when we didn't have much protection. Sure, we had sunscreen that we had found (or that the men had found during their raids), but it wasn't enough. The cool breeze licks my skin as the night darkens. The sky is cloudy tonight and the stars aren't poking through. I shuffle along, not feeling too great still. The aspirin haven't kicked in yet. I feel like the walking dead.

A hand grabs my arm and spins me around, my own hand is on the knife I still have before I'm fully turned. The knife sits on Daryl's throat and he's lucky I didn't plunge it straight into his neck. He's not surprised by my threat, doesn't even blink. I notice the crossbow strung across his back and the small back pack on his shoulder.

"You're leaving." I state before he can get a word out.

"I ain't stayin here."

"Why? It's-"

"Safe. Were ya thinkin that when you had to kill two walkers earlier?" He cuts off my sentence.

"Walkers?" I echo. The word making my migraine worse.

"I don't really like the group environment." He tells me and pulls away from me.

I watch him walk away and something, some weird part of my brain, tells me not to let him go. The farther he gets the more uncomfortable I become. And then I say it. Something personal. I hate talking about my past, but I know he needs to hear it.

"I liked being alone too. I was out there for a year." He pauses mid-step as I continue. "Bruce is the one that found me, I was beaten and starving…barely holding on to life. There was no food around anymore and I was so weak I could barely take a couple dead on my own. But then I was brought here, and it's not the greatest. Not like before everything happened. But it's better than being alone, I promise." My voice is shaking by the end, I've divulged more to him than I have to even Kimberly.

Daryl turns and in one stride he is near me again. His face shows only sympathy. "Beth." He says softly. And my headache gets worse.

The pounding is so erratic and powerful that I drop the knife I was holding and clutch at my temples. My eyes squeeze shut and my legs give out. I know I'm screaming, or that I want to scream. It's so much pressure and pain. Not like a cut or a flesh wound, but something deeper that I can't control. I pass out, the world turns black for the second time that evening. And the last thing I hear is "Beth!" being called out in a loud, panicked shout.

* * *

**A/N - OMG, hi guys! I kept forgetting to do my author's note before. Shame on me! Anyway, I really hope you all enjoy this story. I've got it mapped out and will probably update often so no worries. Review, favorite, and follow! I listen to all of you, I promise. And I'm sorry if Beth seems a little OOC right now. I promise, by the end of this fanfiction everything will make sense. All of it! Haha, anyway, if you all have any suggestions or requests let me know! I'm super thrilled to be writing this after taking a brief hiatus from this website. Thank you so much for all the positive reviews and follows and favorites so far, it really makes it worth writing! **


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